Cheek to Cheek
by Dark Austral
Summary: A brief taste of what it's like beyond the rack can wet a man's appetite. Rate M for imagery.


**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural or Fred Astair's song.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R (for gore)**  
><strong>

**A/N**: I was rewatching On the Head of a Pin on TNT one day and this plot bunny popped into my head. The song is Fred Astaire's "Cheek to Cheek" and thanks to this show, I will forever see Alistair singing that song.

**Cheek to Cheek**

Bare feet, or what was once feet, scrap and drag over the volcanic pitch black ground. Sun-bleached bones on his left foot crack and leave a fine dust of white powder on the rough, pitted rocks. The other is dragged and swung lightly, the remaining flesh sliced cleanly against the glistening pockets of obsidian.

A hiss if that's what it can be called staggers out from a ragged throat. Dean's heaving, his green eyes swallowed in painful concentration as he tries to keep his legs upright and in time with Alistair.

The demon holds Dean flush against his chest, heat searing into his chest as long thin fingers of his two left hands hook underneath the back of his rib cage. One of the right hands is picking up Dean's massacred right leg and placing it on his hoofed foot, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. The remaining right hand cups Dean's limp left hand gently, running soothing circles up and down his pristine palm.

"Heaven…I'm in Heaven…" The demon's singing away, swaying them over the spills of guts and razor sharp floors. He moves Dean's body like a master puppeteer, relishing the limp form of his prized possession.

Pushing Dean slightly away, he takes in the battered and bruised body gleaming golden in hell's fire. The feet might be totally gone, but the rest of Dean remains semi-intact. With one still remaining fixed on that smooth rib cage, Alistair runs his dripping red hand to Dean's hipbone. There, he used a wood-burner creating a beautiful design of twisted knots and old demonic sigils. It might not be the Sistine Chapel, but amongst the faintly freckled skin, it's all he needs.

Running the fingers upwards, leaving goosebumps and broken bones in his wake, Alistair slides his hand into the long incision he made earlier, cupping the beating heart inside. "And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak."

Dean whimpers, his long dirty hair dusting lightly over his shoulders, hiding that delicate face behind a curtain. Drool and blood run down the chin and Alistair finds himself sad that he had bitten off the tongue. Bringing in Dean's right arm, he lets it drape over his shoulder, where he can feel fingers brush lightly against his reptilian backside.

Both arms now on him, the demon gently pushes Dean towards him, nudging away the hair with his hooded throat. "I seem to find the happiness I seek." Those green eyes rise up to meet his white gleaming joy. Despite all the agony and pain of dancing for the past hours...or was it days..the demon spots the growing hatred smoldering in the pitch black of his pupils.

Singing louder, belting each note, lost in the song, curling his forked tongue over every word, Alastair waltzes Dean's broken body around their private corner of Hell, the horrific screams the perfect background tempo. Dean's muffled screams and sobs, those gurgles of snarls and curses bring a beaming smile on Alistair's face. Leaning down, the demon scraps his cheek against the tear-stained one of his pupil as he sings with heat tinged air, "When we're out together...dancing cheek to cheek."

The dancing and singing doesn't stop till Dean is clutching against Alistair so hard that black ooze is streaking down his back to hold himself up. The demon's voice is soft, almost like it was a lullaby, the lyrics the only thing Dean can think of. "Dance with me, I want my arm about you."

Alistair picks up Dean like he is a mere child, his multiple arms pressing Dean's sweat and blood soaked skin into the blistering heat of his form. The smell of flesh burning assaults his nostrils and he can't help but give out a soft moan as he rocks back and forth to the familiar spot.

Dean's not too lost in the agony, for he begins to thrash lightly. He doesn't want to go back but he still hasn't said that one tiny little word. So it's back to the same old routine, till next year when Alistair will dance once more with Dean in Hell's ballroom. Stumps of Dean's toes and fingers claw weakly as hoarse screams tickle tiny holes that serve as ears.

"The charm about you..." Balancing Dean on his knee, Alistair places all four hands at each of the joints and with one snap dislocates the arms and legs. Dean's head flies backward, mouth stretched wide with a silent scream, fresh tears hissing against Alistair's skin.

Cupping one hand behind that soft hair, Alistair gently lays Dean onto his rack. Talons brushing against that bloodless skin and freckles standing out like stars in a night sky, the others working the straps, chains and hooks back into their rightful places in Dean. His voice is now a soft whisper, ending the last line of the song, "Will carry me through to Heaven."

Dean is a shivering mess of bones, blood and tears carving him into a new creature with the patience and delicacy of a tiny drip of water on a boulder. Fading eyes flutter upwards, watching with numb terror as Alistair leans in.

Breath blubbing the soft flesh those pink sinful lips, Alistair purrs, "Happy Birthday Dean."


End file.
